


Yes, Admiral.

by Oparu



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Community: femslash_kink, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: pulling rank.</p><p>Beverly finds ways to make Kathryn wish she'd never been promoted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Admiral.

**Author's Note:**

> for femslash_kink on dreamwidth.

"Yes, Admiral," and then she does it. In the middle of a meeting, of course, because that's who she is. That's who Kathryn loves, which makes her truly question her choices in life. 

It's not much, nothing sinister, Beverly just purses her lips and shakes her hair back over her shoulder. There is something unbearably stunning about her lips, something that captivates Kathryn far more than she'd ever believe to be realistic. It's the same kind of crush that makes it into romance novels. The delightfully restrained 19th century ones that Kathryn really can't get enough of. 

There's forty-seven minutes left to the meeting, eight things on the agenda and Beverly's hands are caressing the PADD in front of her. Stroking it as if it were skin. 

Kathryn runs her tongue over her teeth, counting the seconds it takes for Admiral Ngun to finish her assessment of the logistics requirements of sector eight-one-four. There's absolutely nothing sexy about warp corridors, but Beverly's hands are still moving across the table and Kathryn can just about feel them on her own skin. 

The next item on the agenda is medical supply, of course, and Kathryn has to look directly at her, which she accomplishes only poorly because Beverly grins, smiling as if she does know exactly what sort of thoughts the tips of her fingers arouse.

She doesn't speak, forcing Kathryn to invite her.

"Doctor Crusher?"

"Yes, Admiral?"

"The next item on the agenda is yours, Doctor."

"Of course, Admiral-" she rolls the word through her mouth as if it were wine. "I was just waiting for your to give me permission."

Permission? Kathryn raises an eyebrow and the telepath in the back chokes very subtly. Of course Admiral Surrelt would have to have a Betazoid aide who's probably having as much fun listening to Kathryn's mental acrobatics as Beverly is creating them. She did chide Beverly for interrupting in the last meeting. She asked her to wait more patiently, she did this to herself. Which makes it worse. Much worse, because Beverly's been asking permission for everything. Only Vulcans are supposed to have that kind of skill denying themselves orgasm. 

Kathryn swallows hard and reaches for her coffee, which is cold. "Carry on."

"Thank you, Admiral."

Beverly stands, moving to the front of the room where the display screen flashes through their medical supply needs for the next six months. They're still cleaning up after the Dominion War, the Borg and the Romulans, and it seems they're always needed. It is more interesting than logistrics, but Kathryn can't concentrate on more than the shapes Beverly's lips make, or the way her hips move as she returns to her chair. 

Seven more agenda items.

She can't even argue with the incredibly pretentious Admiral Sleet, and accepts it because Beverly interrupts twice, asking for permission with the utmost politeness. She's on cadet's manners, so incredibly formal that every time Kathryn has to say "Yes, Doctor," she aches a little bit more. 

By agenda item four, the replanting of the forests lost to the volcanic activity on Ayce VI, Kathryn's seriously considering kicking Beverly under the table for being so damn demure.

After the remaining minutes slip off the space time continuum, finally someone stops the meeting. The Betazoid aide, bless his telepathic little heart, informs them all that there's a mandatory reception for the Tellerite Ambassador in five minutes and most of them need to be there. Not the head of Starfleet Medical, luckily, or the admiral in charge of Federation protectorates and other deep space installations. Everyone leaves the room but Beverly, who remains in her chair.

"Doctor?"

"I'm waiting to be dismissed, Admiral." 

"Would you like to be dismissed?"

"Depends on what I'm being dismissed to, Admiral."

"Don't you need to be at the reception?"

"The Tellerite delegation will be entirely fine without me for at least an hour."

Kathryn can think of several ways to spend an hour or two and the stinging between her thighs climbs towards red alert. "An hour?

"Yes, Admiral. I believe so." She's still standing at attention behind her chair, perfectly still in that way only she seems to be able to be. Like a dancer waiting for the right musical cue to come to life. 

She's going to make Kathryn beg.

"I have something I've just remembered I need to discuss with you, Doctor, accompany me to my office?"

Beverly breaks only long enough to smile. That smile, the hungry one. "Of course, Admiral. Anything you need."

Need is the operative word. Kathryn needs her more than she currently needs oxygen. The turbolift is full of attaches and staff and Beverly stands just behind Kathryn, as if she too were part of the lower ranks who keep the whole damn Federation running. She follows to Kathryn's office, not leading, not with her but a step behind, because she is only ranked a commander and Kathryn is an admiral. It doesn't matter that Beverly far outranks her years of service, or that Beverly is the most important medical doctor in Starfleet for the second time, what matters are the three extra little insignia on Kathryn's collar.

Maybe she'll make her take them off, one by one, then surrender to her mercies. Maybe she'll keep the charade, ordering Beverly around until she finally can't take it and fights back. That's what Kathryn loves, the flash when she fights back, when she's pushed to the brink and takes Kathryn over with her. 

Beverly stands just inside the door to Kathryn's office, perfectly at attention like a new cadet, stiff and formal. Kathryn shuts the door, sends her ever-so-innocent aide to the reception and locks the door. Crossing to her desk, she debates for the briefest of moments not playing along but she wants this as much as Beverly does.

Possibly more, judging by the way Beverly can so easily hide how aroused she is. 

"Take off your jacket." Kathryn makes it an order, clipped and brusque. Beverly complies, folding it neatly on the chair by the door. "And the tunic."

Slipping the teal blue tunic free from her shoulders, Beverly shakes out her hair and returns to attention. The red-gold of her hair stands out in sharp contrast over the dark black of her vest. It's only that and her bra between Kathryn and her skin, but she won't get her until later.

"Now mine." 

Beverly steps towards her and Kathryn shakes her head. "With a laser scalpel, and neatly! I don't want my tailor to complain."

Beverly breaks character enough to smirk and makes a show of taking out the medkit from beneath Kathryn's desk. She takes out the laser scalpel and activates it, letting the little red light glow as she studies Kathryn's jacket. She makes a neat path down the zipper, slicing through fabric as if were nothing. 

"Like this, Admiral?"

"See how well you've done," Kathryn says, sitting back. Beverly parts the fabric of Kathryn's jacket, then her own maroon tunic, the black vest and finally her bra underneath. She cut through to the skin and Kathryn didn't even feel it.

"Show off."

"I only meant to please you Admiral, perhaps I miscalculated the depth of the beam." Her calculations were perfect and they both know it, but Kathryn mocks dismay.

"Have you cut me?"

Beverly traces the path of the laser scalpel with her tongue, stopping on Kathryn's belly, just above her trousers. She lifts her head, letting her hair fall loose onto Kathryn's skin. "Your skin is perfect, Admiral."

It's the worshipful look on her face, the hand that's on her thigh without permission and the hint of adoration in Beverly's voice that make her ache as if she's been waiting years to be touched. 

"I underestimated you."

Beverly only smirks at that and leans upward, returning to attention. 

"You've done well, you may touch my breasts. That should please you."

"Only if it pleases you, Admiral."

"See that it does," Kathryn says and Beverly laughs just a little. It's the throaty, wanting sort of laugh that makes Kathryn quiver. Beverly's hands, then tongue on her breasts turns the quiver into a desperate gasp. She needs to be touched, to have Beverly's fingers inside of her before she explodes.

Or until she explodes, she's never quite sure of the order. 

"Have I pleased you?" Beverly whispers just next to her ear. Kathryn grabs her and kisses her, nibbling her lip in thanks. 

"I need you to touch me here," she orders, moving Beverly's hand down to her sex. Beverly's fingers caress her just enough to make her groan, even through the fabric. "I ache."

"Here?" Beverly asks, coy as she rubs her thumb with just enough pressure to make Kathryn grip the edge of the desk and whimper. 

"There."

Beverly undoes her trousers and slips her hand into her panties, stroking her for the briefest second before she stops, waiting to be told what to do.

Kathryn lies back on the desk, unable to watch the pride and desire in Beverly's eyes. She's supposed to hold off, not to crumble the moment she's touched but she can't. Not like this. 

"Use your best judgement, Doctor." 

Slipping Kathryn's trousers down, Beverly tugs her closer to the edge of the desk. "Do you think you can trust me, Admiral?"

"No," Kathryn admits, trying to breathe. 

Leisurely sliding Kathryn's panties down her thighs and around her knees, Beverly places her legs on the chairs in front of the desk. She leans down, kissing Kathryn's thigh before dragging her tongue up. 

"Have I displeased you in some way, Admiral?"

The heat of her mouth is so close to Kathryn's sex that she wants to writhe until her lips are there, no longer taunting her, but she can't. 

She reaches down and strokes Beverly's hair. "You drive me crazy, but you never displease me." It's nearly out of character. She's not supposed to praise but she can't help it. She might be in love. Beverly taunts her one last time, drawing out the time it takes to run her fingers along Kathryn's desperately wet labia. 

Leaning forward, she kissing Kathryn's breast just under the nipple, forgiving her for her slip. "Your orders, Admiral?"

Her voice is to rough to have any authority left and all she can think to say is, "Make me scream."

Beverly laughs and kisses her, breaking the command structure. Her fingers slip inside as her tongue meets Kathryn's and finally, the swirling agony within her shows hope. Beverly kisses her way down, letting her fingers open Kathryn up. She pauses, removing her hand and licking her fingertips. 

"Yes, ma'am."

Kathryn hates ma'am. Beverly says it with a nearly British twist and she has only the moment of frustration before Beverly's damn mouth finds her. 

She gasps first, entirely unprepared for how exquisite relief was going to be. She's been half-mad with wanting all afternoon and now, it's physics have been suspended inside her. She wriggles on the desk until Beverly holds her down, resting a hand on her belly as her mouth and her other hand work in unison. Kathryn tries to swallow her moans of pleasure but she's always been vocal and this is more than she has the strength to ignore. 

Beverly removes her mouth, teasing Kathryn's thigh, then her belly until Kathryn just about begs her to return. She's given her orders, Beverly will follow them even if she takes her time.

When her mouth returns, the spiral upwards skips a few rings, sending Kathryn's head spinning. She puts her sleeve in her mouth, biting down to keep herself from crying out but she does anyway, shaking as she again becomes aware of the cold glass pressed against her hips. It's frosted with steam between her thighs as she sits up. They'll have to clean it but that doesn't matter. She strips out of her sliced uniform and grabs Beverly before she has a change to get away. 

They kiss until they're up against the wall and Kathryn takes her there, rewarding her even as her own orgasm still thunders in her ears. Beverly's entirely wet and the way she rocks her hips into Kathryn's hand and the rasp of what was such even breathing is worth all the madness that came before. Beverly's legs go weak, then rubbery and they end up together, collapsed, half dressed and panting against the wall of her office. 

The room smells of sex and the good kind of sweat and Beverly's laughter as Kathryn unhooks her now severed bra is sweet. 

"What am I wearing home?"

"Your backup uniform in the bottom left drawer, or your dress uniform in the far right. Or we can comm the quartermaster and ask for both of our dress uniforms to be sent up for the reception."

"You had a plan?"

"It's pretty easy to tell a scalpel to slice through everything that's not living tissue if you know how."

"Which I don't."

"You're an admiral, my love, you don't need to know these things." 

"I suppose not." Kathryn curls up in her arms, resting her head on Beverly's chest. She lets the endearment slip by but she can't stop the flutter in her chest. "I can't even remember the meeting."

"There will be notes."

"You delight in ruining my afternoons, don't you?"

"Think how little fun you would have had if we'd just come back here and done work?"

"You are fun."

Beverly smirks. "That I am."

"Maddening fun."

"That's your favourite kind."

"Why is it that you insist things that make my hair stand on end are actually things I love?"

Kissing her, Beverly slips to her ear and whispers, "Because I love you." She slips past Kathryn and picks up her jacket. She tosses it on and grabs her tunic. "Meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

Kathryn holds her jacket close over her chest. "Or?"

"Or I'll find a way to ruin the morning meeting and mysteriously disappear all afternoon." 

"Yes, ma'am," Kathryn quips, mocking a salute. 

Beverly's gaze lingers on Kathryn's naked breast and she winks. "Ten minutes." 

Kathryn's exactly on time in the atrium, but Beverly's ninety-two seconds late. She'll have to be punished and that thought makes Kathryn flushed before she even reaches the champagne.


End file.
